Pan
by tweeny-weeny
Summary: After she left Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him, the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)PG-just in case.
1. chapter 1

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either!

**SUMMARY:** After she left Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him, the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

* * *

Pan did go back, after Wendy and the Lost Boys had left Neverland. He went back nearly every night, sometimes with Tink, but mainly without her. She got bored when he sat and watched, just listening morosely.

They spoke of him once, that Pan heard, Michael had asked Slightly if he thought they would see Peter again, Slightly had smiled humourlessly, "that wasn't real Michael, Wendy made it up." Michael had nodded seriously, and Peter had never gone back.

He had sat in the bed under his tree, and he'd heard Hook's words again, "She was leaving you, Pan. Your Wendy was leaving you." She had left him, she had forgotten him.

"You sir are deficient!" He remembered her angry words, the soft quiet words that had cut through him, still cut through him "You're just a boy." He felt a trickle run down his cheek.

"I am not crying, I am not!" He looked around, daring nameless boys to say otherwise, but nothing moved.

No one was there.

He had gone to see the mermaids, asked if Hook was really gone. He was. And somehow Pan felt even more alone, Hook had never left him, never forgotten him, when Hook had been there he had been the most important thing in that broken man's life. And in that instant Pan learned hate. He hated Captain James Hook, for dying, for leaving him with no purpose. He hated Tink, for not understanding that he did not feel like playing anymore. He hated the Lost Boys, who had looked after them? He had, he had brought them up, looked out for them, and they had left, left with the story teller he had brought them. A girl. Most of all Pan hated Wendy Darling. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him, the girl who had killed him.

All of Peter's good memories became twisted, each one corrupted and warped by Wendy. Every good memory led to her, every thought of her turned to bitterness.

Slowly, the flowers and trees died in Neverland. The Indians abandoned their camp, moving as far away from the Black Castle as they could, because that is where Pan now stayed. The place where there were the fewest memories of Wendy, the place where Hook had almost killed him. Pan roamed the dark, stone corridors, remembering. Forgetting.

His hair got longer, dirtier, the colour darker, like his mood. Tink did not come visit him, she was scared, his face now pale from lack of sun, his hair dirty, black and matted, his eyes so grey and cold. She shuddered when she saw him, vaguely remembering an embittered, lonely man when she looked into his once kind eyes.

Pan did not look for her, he knew she would leave him. Everyone else had.

Pan did look for the pirates after that, he told himself it was for adventure, still clinging to the belief that he was Peter, a child, archenemy of Hook. He wanted company, purpose. He found them, no longer on the sea, they slept on the beach, fighting together, eating together, drinking together. Pan watched them, looking at the familiar, unchanged faces. They had not left him.

He pushed his hair back, and strode towards them, the sneer, which he reserved specifically for them, set firmly on his face. And as he walked forward, they stopped drinking, stopped eating, and they stared. Finally, something was as it should be; the pirates afraid of Peter Pan.

As he drew closer one stood up. "C…c…captain H…Hook?"

**

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A/N: _I wonder where these ideas come from really I do. _**

_Now as it's my first Panfic please Read and Review (hey it rhymes!) _

_Seriously if you review and you're an author, then I will read your story and review it – someone else did this, and it's a great idea as a desperate plea for reviews. Also I don't know whether I should continue – those reading my other story will probably demand I don't but…I have a plot figured out (kinda) it's just whether I can be bothered to write it down. _

_Anyway hit the button that makes me happy! Love ya_

_Tweeny-weeny_


	2. chapter 2

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either!

**SUMMARY:** After she left Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him, the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

Chapter 2

* * *

"_Sob, heavy world sob as you spin / mantled in mist, remote from the happy." - W.H. Auden_

* * *

In that moment Pan became Captain, there on the beach, still a confused boy at heart but with the looks and soul of a vindictive twisted man, a man who was dead. Again Peter was Lord of all; it was just a different type of leadership. The tendrils of Hook clung to the pirates, cruel and deep. The group of men could not forget Hook just as Pan couldn't, his soul dug deep, contorting, twisting, damaging the souls and bodies of many men and one lost boy.

If Pan raised his voice the pirates would flinch back. If he ordered something they would not smile as they did it, they would do it with fear and do it well. Pan did not consider the strange twist of fate that had led him to be in the place of his enemy, it was enough that it had happened.

Pan's soul began to turn blacker.

Pan did not let himself compare the pirates' unquestioning fear to the Lost Boys unwavering devotion. He considered the pirates quickness to do his bidding, their unquestioning attitude, their dependence on him. He forgot the fun he had had with the Lost Boys, he forgot their adoration, forgot their friendship. He tried to ignore the looks of fear when one of his orders was disobeyed; he attempted to disregard the inexplicable scars on some of the pirates' backs, he chose to forget that he was increasingly lonely; filling the boots of someone he had killed.

Hadn't he?

Sometimes Pan couldn't tell where Hook ended and he began. He avoided mirrors, shunned clean glass, even evading still water. He tried to divine a line, a place where he was solely Peter, but that place was the past – and the past was twisted beyond all recognition by Wendy's betrayal. So Pan tried to distinguish between himself and a dead man, finding no difference but trying anyway, still clinging to age old ideals, "I am not Hook!" he yelled at Smee, the little man took it in his stride, his eyes flashing in shock and fear.

"Y…y…es, Captain H-." Peter smiled, a slow sickening smile that made the hair on the back of Smee's neck stand on end,

"Only call me Captain." The smile stayed, Pan had separated the ghost from himself. At least he told himself so. A small voice hissed in his ear, a remnant of youthful days, _"Hook is only called Hook because you cut off his hand."_ Peter shook his heard, his matted hair swinging around his shoulders.

"I'll tell the others Captain." Peter ignored him, he toyed with a small wooden model of a crocodile. Briefly remembering one of the last days, the last day before he was left alone

"_Old, ugly, alone! Say it Hook – you're old, ugly and alone!" _

Peter felt old, no longer a boy, he had not really noticed the changes between manhood and childhood until now, "Wendy was wrong, there is not so much more." Peter scowled, immediately wiping all thoughts of Wendy Darling from his mind. How he hated her, she had made him like Hook, old, ugly and alone. Suddenly Hook seemed closer than ever. His presence settled around Pan, comforting and welcoming. Peter strode out of the cabin onto the deck, smiling at the sharp sea breeze, the cold frosty air.

"Captain H-." A passing pirate said, Smee had obviously spread the word. Pan considered leaving it, but the presence demanded vengeance, demanded punishment,

"It is Captain James Hook, _dog_." He drew his sword, swinging it through the air; it struck the shocked sailor across his chest. The boy, for he was a boy, possibly younger than Peter himself, looked down in shock as the blood spread like an ink blot across his grubby shirt.

Peter watched in pleasant fascination as the blood dripped

He sneered, the face fitting him perfectly, soothed by the spilt blood he walked on, calling for Smee, "Get ready!" he yelled to the crew with obvious pleasure "For a flogging!"

_

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A/N: Well, the reviewees have spoken and I have deigned to continue. Next chapter: will Peter return?_

_Please R&R_

_Tweeny-weeny_


	3. chapter 3

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either!

**SUMMARY:** After she left Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him, the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

"_Some could not like nor change the young and mourn for_

_Some wounded myth that once made children good, _

_Some lost world they never understood. _

_Some saw too clearly all that man was born for." W.H. Auden_

* * *

Pan reached out and embraced the memory of Hook, relishing the release, the ability to forget everything when he concentrated on hate. Hatred of everything; hatred of everyone; self hatred. He felt it all. When he was angry at the world he could no longer remember the personal injustices against him, everything became a big injustice, a giant immeasurable certain thing to hate and be hated by.

One day Pan stood on the deck of his ship, the pirates avoided him, focusing instead on a conversation about how their esteemed Captain had come back from the dead. Pan would have said that he neither noticed nor cared the pirates attitude to him but a small part of him twinges whenever one of the men look at him in hopeless fear.

A larger part of him ignored that the hope for friendship still existed.

He looked at the horizon, seeing the icy seas and grey sky. Nothing was colourful anymore, the world once again reflected Peter Pan's emotions. His cold blue eyes scanned the island of Neverland and widened slightly. Colour? Something stirred in Pan's chest as he spotted the pricks of red, the flashes of yellow, the waves of green. Even Neverland could cope without him, had forgotten him.

A little more of Pan died.

He saw a flash in the sky and drawing out his telescope he searched the mellowing grey. A small boy was soaring through the air, a little sparkling light bobbing next to him as the child laughed happily, something Pan hadn't done in a long time. Tink had found a new boy.

The boy flew over to the ship and Pan did not shout, did not tell the pirates, he simply watched the boy fly closer.

"Captain Hook!" He yelled, his voice high and fun-filled,

"Boy." Pan said loudly, attracting the attention of the pirates.

"Wonderful boy!" The boy laughed from the air, Peter remembered saying the same words. He looked at Tink beside the boy but she did not appear to recognise him. She no longer thought of the little boy she almost died for.

"Wonderful boy?" Panr queried, smirking slightly, "What is your name, wonderful boy?" he mimicked.

"Peter!" He shouted happily, do you not know me Captain Hook?" Peter hid his shock, Neverland hadn't just forgotten him, it'd replaced him.

"Aye, Peter Pan, I know you!"

"Shall we fire on him Captain?" Smee said quietly near Pan's ear. Pan barely even considered, instead his voice lost the curious tone and became rough and bloodthirsty.

"FIRE!" A cannonball rocketed towards the young boy who span out of the way, Pan did not long to fly anymore, but he resented the boy who still had happy thoughts enough to fly without effort, without thought. Peter knew what would happen to this boy, this boy would end up like him, forgotten, old and alone. He opened his mouth to shout this to the boy, wishing him to fall from the air and hit the sea, but he closed his mouth and remained silent. Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe Wendy would not leave, maybe this Peter would not be afraid to go with her. A small part of Pan did not want to destroy the spark of innocence which had brought Neverland back to life, that didn't mean he would let the boy know this though. "RELOAD!"

The boy span away laughing and sped back towards the island. Pan watched him go, caught for the first time in a long time in memories of the past. A girl, a girl with beautiful eyes and a rosebud mouth smiled at him, chasing the Lost Boys with medicine. Peter thought of Curly, Nibs, Slightly, the twins and all the Lost Boys who'd been there before and would apparently be there again. He alone remembered them. They too had been replaced, and realising this for a second Peter did not feel so alone.

_

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A/N: I did say that Peter would return to Neverland, but I doubt many of you thought it would be like that! Well maybe you did…but still. Anyway I am completely overwhelmed by the reviews I've received, 14! 14! Wow, I'm feeling special now. Anyway, I did promise to read all your stories if you reviewed, and I am getting around to it. Unfortunately there were a few of you guys I couldn't review because I hadn't got a clue what it was you were writing about (that's my fault not yours!) However if you have written any HP fanfiction, Panfiction or possibly any other well known books or movie fanfictions please tell me: I'm desperate for something to read._

_Right, now that's explained. Thank-you to everyone who reviewed, I will thank you individually at the end of this fic unless I think of something vitally important to tell you re your review!_

_Also I have come up with an interesting theory about the changes of weather on Neverland, however I have already written a very long authors note so if you want to hear it tell me in the review and I might put it at the bottom of the next chapter._

_SO once again hit that little review button, you know you want to._

_Love_

_  
Tweeny-weeny_


	4. chapter 4

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either!

**SUMMARY:** After she left Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him, the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

* * *

Chapter 4.

Indeed the Lost Boys were replaced. The originals did not know, and if they had known it is impossible to tell if they would have minded. But Pan did know and Pan did mind. He hated the new Slightly, the new Twins, the new Nibbs. He hated the new tree house. Not that he knew where it was, his old one remained abandoned. However, he could imagine the wrongly identical entrance, the misleadingly childish interior.

Pan did not know how to deal with the new Peter and the new Lost Boys and the well, newness. So he fell into the ways of the only one to ever correspondingly hate the children. New Peter was fulfilling his old role, so Pan now fulfilled Hook's. Except this time, this time, the ending would not be the same.

Pan did not consider now that perhaps Captain Hook had once been a mischievous boy called Peter. If he had, he may have paused to wonder about who the original Peter Pan and the original James Hook had been, about what had made them who they were. Perhaps he would have thought if that meant that he too had once been viewed as a usurper, his friends as replacements? But Pan did not pause to consider the mysterious methods of Never Neverland. The island would have seemed far too sinister if such things had crossed his mind.

Time passed in Neverland, in the strange and elusive way it always had. And slowly the new Peter started to leave Neverland for a time, leaving it once again under the influence of its old leader who demanded that the weather – as the new Peter did – reflected his mood. Bleak cold wintry days passed until Peter returned.

One day Pan strut the desk of the Jolly Roger, as content as his twisted soul could let him be. He had a foolproof plan to catch that damn Peter Pan.

He got out his spyglass to search the skies for sign of an irritating grinning face. Frowning as already the ice started to melt and the birds to sing, symbolising the immortal child's return.

There, among the pink candy floss clouds, there was Peter Pan. And there next to him…

No. It wasn't possible.

The boy was taunting him, it was an illusion, he had snapped.

Next to him was Wendy Darling, and those two boys who had called her mother and sister, boys who she called brothers. Her beautiful lips forming their names with something Pan still did not recognise: Love.

John and Michael and Wendy.

They passed the spyglass between them as he had himself so long ago, and watching them, their easy, excited smiles and quick chatter Pan felt more anger than he had in a long time. He also felt lost, Wendy was the same as ever – but he was not. How could he have changed and Wendy, Wendy who'd left him, how could she have stayed the same? Was everything he knew wrong?

He suddenly was possessed with the absolute certainty that this was not his Wendy; this was not the Darling that had killed everything he stood for and made him changed. He wanted to kill her, to get rid of her. He wanted to stop her from impersonating his Wendy – the only one who'd been able to make him change, and the only one who could change him back to who he had been. She had ruined it, but she was the mother, she could make it right again. Not this impersonation of Wendy, not this caricature of the only person to co-rule over his Neverland.

In Neverland Peter Pan had been the only capable of breaking the rules. Wendy had made him and what he felt for Wendy was the only thing that had made it possible for the place where even flowers did not die to let him grow up.

What was it he felt for Wendy that made this possible? He wasn't so sure it was hate anymore.

Not certain what to do, Pan let himself be taken over by the need to get rid of the impersonator, the not-quite Wendy. So he directed the pirates in their plan of attack, the one Pan now knew would fail. He remembered the mast falling and the boy escaping. Wendy did not die and Michael and John were rescued after their capture.

Pan felt as if he was on an unstoppable loop, one only he knew existed. He wondered briefly if the pirates remembered that they had done the same thing before. He wondered how many times and was seized with a terrible fear. Neverland. Always the same, unable to cope with change; the only variables being Peter becoming Hook and a new Peter arriving. Pan wondered how many Peters there had been. How many Hooks? He gasped. How many Wendys?

Pan was on an inescapable path, he felt a sense of fear and inevitability. This was Wendy's fault and deep down he wondered if it would ever change? If evil Hook would ever win? If the same events would occur over and over again in never-ending continuation, a true Neverland.

For the first time, Pan learnt true unimportance. True fear.

_

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A/N: I would like to apologise for the long wait. This chapter just wasn't really working for me but I really like where it has gone. This week I have given up fan fiction – I have given this to my friend Siriusprotege to update because I felt bad holding this back any longer – if you want to monitor my progress then go to my homepage www . deeperdarkness . blogspot. Com (without the gaps obviously) also soon a explanation of where I'm going with this will appear, so if you're interested in seeing that keep checking back to my blog._

_Thanks for your support – I was going to claim that I was waiting for 20 reviews before updating, but that would be a lie. So review – I want to aim for 30 reviews only 11 more. You guys can do it!_

_Thanks Tweeny-weeny. _


	5. chapter 5

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either!

**SUMMARY:** After she left, Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him: the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

Chapter 5.

"_Reality is never injured, cannot _

_Imagine isolation: joy can be shared, _

_And anger and the idea of love." – W.H. Auden. _

* * *

Peter Pan, now Captain Hook, once proud friend to a feisty fairy, father and brother to the lost boys, accomplice of the Indians, acquaintance of the mermaids and the only person to ever have taught Wendy Darling to fly now felt small and alone.

As he remembered the streams of faces, the wealth of feelings he had suffered, the childish joys and emotions he had felt when he was with them Pan experienced self-pity. For the first time he consciously considered that staying in Neverland may not have been the right decision.

Was that the first chance he had had to turn from Neverland? To get off the inevitable path that was leading him to nowhere? He did not know. Maybe if he had never brought Wendy, if he had never befriended Tink, if he had never let the Lost Boys leave. His life had become a 'what if' and Peter Pan needed it to end.

Further away from London than even he knew, not having returned since the fateful day when he had discovered that he had been forgotten, Pan did not know that some still remembered him how he was. One still thought of his gleaming golden hair and mischievous smile, and Pan still thought of her, more now than ever before.

Drawing out his 'kiss' which he still wore round his neck after these long years, he clasped it in his long fingers, still calloused from sword fighting yet less free than before. These were no longer the hands of a little boy who used flourishing fingers to express himself, but then not much of Pan was like the little boy he used to be. At least not much he would admit to.

Finding himself unable to rest, unable to stand still, Pan strode from the deck of the Jolly Roger, ignoring Smee as he asked where he was going. He walked quietly through the woods, trying to think; with one revelation he had been cut down from the most important person in his world to a pre-packaged life. Already lived.

He strode through the undergrowth on paths which had not developed as was usual with the wanderings of purposeful feet. He drew to a halt in front of a large clearing, sitting quietly in the trees he looked on as the fairies danced. Suddenly surrounded by the elegant creatures Pan looked on as two figures from his past danced across the clearing, lifting into the air with happiness: Wendy and him.

The dreamlike images smiled at each other, nervous embarrassment not stopping the sense of contentment, the peaceful rightness in each others' young arms.

Pan sat on the edge of the clearing with his eyes closed, he saw once again Wendy's eyes so bright and beautiful in the twinkling stars and remembered the sudden drop to reality, Wendy's unhappy face

"_This is just pretend?"_

Pan felt a glistening tear slide down his face as their feet hit the ground.

"_What do you feel?" _

Once again Pan heard a childlike voice. Her angel voice rising in hopeless rage – Peter Pan would not, could not change, the victim of Neverland as much as she. Would Wendy ever know that she was the one who changed Pan?

Feel? He had felt so little and so much for so long. He knew that what he was feeling was not what Wendy had meant.

"_Hate?"_

"_Hook."_

Yes, Hook was hate. _He_ was hate. Pan did not want to hate anymore, but he did not know what else was left, what else there was.

"_Jealousy?"_

"_Tink."_

He was jealous now. Tink had abandoned him, his friends had abandoned him, Wendy had abandoned him.

Or had he let himself be abandoned?

"_Love?"_

Pan shuddered at the word. He did not understand it. Had never seen it. Love was not something Pan had ever thought of, ever expressed. Yet when he thought of Wendy, her pale face and hopefully eyes, he felt a strong need to understand love: to know what it meant.

It was something to do with the kiss, the thimble, the anger in her eyes,

"_The very sound of it offends me!" _

But with the word love Peter heard his escape, and though he did not understand how, he knew that to make this life for himself, to live how he wanted and not as Neverland dictated, he needed Wendy Darling – the girl who had joined the pirates, the girl who told stories, the girl who understood love.

_A/N: My other story _The Trials and Tribulations of Harry J. Potter _was deleted last week, apparently because it was not my story. BOLLOCKS. I am not going to bash policy but I wanted to warn you all that you must be very careful with what you put up if you don't want it deleted too. Anyway on a lighter note I now know where this going. Go me!_

_REVIEW – I have had a bad day. :)_


	6. chapter 6

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either! I would also like to say that I am sorry if I offend any Micronesian people by spelling Wendy with only one 'd' I have been informed that this can be taken as an offensive word.

**SUMMARY:** After she left, Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him: the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

Chapter 6.

"_Destiny is as destiny does. If you believe you have no control, then you have no control." -Wess Roberts_

* * *

Pan was going to change the ending. He just needed to know how.

The more he thought about it the more it seemed that his conclusion that Wendy was the key came back to him. Still uncertain Pan did what all his childish experience had taught him, he went to visit the mermaids.

He sailed to the lagoon where they lived and sat on the shore, staring into the black waters in confusion. Slowly he pulled out a small set of pipes. They were obviously old and out of use, the gaps between the pieces were slightly too small and as Pan hesitantly brought the light wood to his mouth the notes ran together. The same tune he had always used came back to him and he played it slowly, his fingers occasionally stumbling until a ghost of his former self returned and he and his inner child played the pipes together.

Slowly the mermaids appeared, gliding and hovering in the water. "Hook." They said in their strange high voices,

"Mermaids," He replied, laying aside his pipes but still crouched in the old, familiar, childlike position,

"You need answers," Pan nodded his head,

"Can Neverland be broken?" It seemed wrong to him to voice his thoughts out loud, as if once out in the open it would be possible that Neverland could prevent his plans in someway, could find some new way of holding him.

Nothing happened.

"Why would it break?" The mermaids asked as one, smiling secretive smiles.

"If I was to leave, if I was to find a way to break Neverland's hold on me."

"Others have done so. You will be replaced." So that's what it boiled down to was it. Others had figured out a way to break free. To be free. Yet a noble part of Pan recoiled

"And what of the new Pan? Would he break free?"

"It is uncertain."

Peter thought for a while, and the mermaids watched him in open, scornful curiosity. Slowly a plan began to formulate in his mind, maybe to change the ending he needed to change the story?

"And if I told the new Peter." Pan said softly. The mermaids eyes widened and their mouths opened.

"Destruction! Death!" the screamed, their cries aching to the ears, they sped into the distance, desperate to get away from him.

"_Destruction…death…"_ What did that mean? Would Neverland be destroyed? Pan looked at the beautiful water, thought of the Indians, the pirates. If the Island was destroyed would they disappear? Where would England's abandoned boys go?

He walked slowly back to the Jolly Roger, lost in deep thought. It was obvious that this wasn't just about him anymore; that considering his future meant considering the future of everyone else on the island too. Pan sighed, he had never felt less like Hook and he had never felt less like Peter. He was thinking of the consequences of his actions and the consequences were frightening.

He came to a clearing, one he remembered clearly. Gradually he walked to the tall buttress roots where the Fairies danced and peering through the wood he became absorbed in the flights of fanciful fairies. Suddenly he spotted a familiar face, and in excitement he hissed "Tink!"

The small face looked up at him, and he watched her face recoil even as she came closer.

As she approached he took a respectful step back and the tiny fairy looked at Captain Hook in wonderment, his face seemed so familiar, his hair less black, his eyes less cruel. She stared at the man who was so much younger than she remembered him being and listened in amazement as he said in a voice at once confused and light hearted,

"Tink, it's me, Peter."

_

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A/N: Another chapter. SHINING STAR OF VALINOR - I would like to thank for inspiring me to write this chapter – a review for each chapter, **I love you**! SIR PENT - please see the disclaimer. THELOSTBOYS78 - that was a very good point, in answer to your question, no one has noticed. Maybe that's an indicator that things are different!_

_Please Review and make my day!_

_Tweeny_


	7. Chapter 7

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either! I would also like to say that I am sorry if I offend any Micronesian people by spelling Wendy with only one 'd' I have been informed that this can be taken as an offensive word.

**SUMMARY:** After she left, Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him: the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

Chapter 7.

"_Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." -William Jennings Bryan _

Confused, Pan ran. What was he doing? He left Tink in the woods, surrounded by oblivious dancing fairies.

He had once heard that very little fairies only had room for one emotion at a time; the Tink Pan left was angry.

She had screeched and launched herself at him, berating the man in front of her in a tiny, shrill voice and using fairy dust to illustrate all of the ways she was going to kill him. For a forever young fairy she certainly knew a lot of hideous ways to maim, to torture and to torment.

Once back in the safety of his cabin, Pan leant against his large desk and looked at his hands speculatively. They were long and slender, the underneath of the nails still dirty. As his breathing slowed Pan sat in a large chair and took out a hook which lay on a velvet cushion next to his narrow, single bed. He watched the sharp point glitter in the candle light, his two good hands held the one once used as a replacement in careful contemplation.

He brought the point down to the pale skin above his wrist, remembering how it had felt to cut off the hand of someone else.

He had been terribly nostalgic recently.

The sharp hook tugged on the edge of his skin but loosed before it could tear, leaving a thin white line where it had scraped the edge of his palm. Musingly Pan traced the outline of a blue vein up his arm; he stopped above a vein, uncommonly close to the surface, pushed the point gently but lifted it away before blood was drawn. A small bull's-eye pin-prick showed a way out, but it was not a way he was willing to take.

Slowly he leant back in his chair, resting his eyes and felt the quiet stinging which came with lack of sleep. Behind his lids he saw a curious young girl, her face alive with stories and her head impassioned with courage and honour and huge feats of immense bravery.

The door burst open and Pan slammed the hook, still held in one hand, on to the desk, causing it to quiver in front of him. Smee's plump face twisted to first a sigh of dismay and then a mildly puzzled expression, as Pan's face formed a slow smile.

"Mister Smee." Pan said slowly, rolling the words off his tongue

"Yes, Captain Hook, sir." The man's red cheeks shone in the candlelight

"How old are you Smee?" The question threw the small man,

"Why," His face frowned, the bristles of his white eyebrows clumped together, a prickly expression to summon up uncomfortable thoughts, "I was a boy once, and… then…I became a pirate and here I am Captain."

Hook picked up the pistol on the table in front of him and smirked as Smee squeaked nervously. He shot into the ceiling more for effect than to display any anger.

"Very good, Smee. And has there ever been another Captain Hook?" The little man's eyes bulged.

"Another C…Captain James Hook. Captain?" Pan did not bother to hide his frustration,

"Yes. Smee,"

"No, Captain, no one else could be as great a captain as you, Captain?" Pan did not answer, noted the cautious flattery after the pistol shot, asked one more question, one he could not help slipping out,

"Are you happy, Mister Smee?"

"Happy, c…captain? We could do with more rum I suppose every now and again – that's just a suggestion mind – and maybe a storyteller, or a pipe player…"

"Leave, Smee."

"Yes, Captain." The little man backed out and Pan stroked his chin pensively before dragging a hand through his hair. The dark ringlets were separated by lithe fingers as he considered what he had discovered.

At once a plan formed in his minds eye. A selfish plan, a plan not like one Hook would hatch and not like one Peter would joyously detail to his gang of Lost Boy's. Pan had tried to separate himself from Hook, from the memories he and the island held of the man. A man who he imitated, emulated, a man he embraced but now shrugged off like a heavy coat in too warm weather. A man who he wasn't. In this plan hide the first steps of his separation, the dividing line, the true death of Hook. Pan would not demand others deaths to allow him to put right the workings of Neverland. Pan would not tell others about the workings either. A medium. His two selves becoming one.

If he was the only one who did not fit in Neverland was it fair that he forced others to leave? He thought of the new Peter, the doomed boy with blonde locks who only Pan knew what would happen to.

The next Captain James Hook.

An ill-fated, destiny guided, star-crossed boy.

But the plan was formed and all decisions finalised, carefully Pan stood and forced the hook from the desk where it left a splintered hole. He placed the point of the silver relic against the pliant wood and carefully dragged the blade against the grain.

'_WENDY.' _

Pan knew himself very well, and therefore he knew Peter, one half of himself. The boy would realise the cunning of Never Neverland and would then see the solution, literally glaring at him in the face. If he didn't, Pan had tried. It was enough.

Pulling a large bag of emeralds, rubies, gold tiaras and model flowers towards him Pan gently grasped a small, silver thimble from where it hung in the hollow of his throat; another relic from a past time. Carefully he left the Jolly Roger and strode into the forest towards the old tree house, his old home, his last place of happiness.

What would he find there?


	8. Chapter 8

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either! I would also like to say that I am sorry if I offend any Micronesian people by spelling Wendy with only one 'd' I have been informed that this can be taken as an offensive word.

**SUMMARY:** After she left, Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him: the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

Chapter 8.

_"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who no longer pauses to wonder and stand in rapt awe, is as good as dead." - Albert Einstein_

* * *

The tree house was dark as Pan stood in front of its entrance. He entered through a hollow trunk only he knew about, not noticing how the old wood pressed more forcefully against his adult form.

The form he swore he would never take.

The long table was exactly where it always had been, the swords where they had always stood, his chair located in exactly the same space as it had been last time he had sat on it.

He looked at the bunk, now covered in thick dust, where he had lain as another Hook had poisoned his 'medicine.' He walked across the room and a puff of dirt whirled into the air, exposing a worn carpet and Pan experienced a sudden déjà-vu of two identical boys crashing into each other as they slid down tree trunks into their home.

Sitting on the throne, a ghost of small hands fluttered over his arms, high voices echoed in the small room, a room which was smaller than he remembered.

'_Peter…'_

'_Father…'_

Shaking himself out of his strange reminiscence, Pan strolled past his memories and the paraphernalia of a distant past he was returning to. Lightly picking up a tall, silk top hat, the stitching worn yet proudly sported; he idly set it at a jaunty angle on his head. _'John's hat.'_

Pan felt younger and at once terribly old, seeing the place he thought he would never leave, the prized possessions of those he thought he would always be with, the home which he had felt more proud of than any small boy ever felt. Trailing a finger in the dust Pan saw a reflection of himself in one of the swords, surprisingly still perfect metallic silver. He looked younger, more a jaded adolescent than pirate captain. A ridiculous hat, elaborate clothes, blue eyes and lighter hair meant he seemed like a boy playing dressing up. Acting a part; with no co-stars.

A gleam of sunlight shone through a hole in the roof, illuminating the splendours of the underground hideaway and safe house of Peter Pan.

A shadow grew on the wall, a shadow which had lain still and obedient for so long. Cautiously it waved a hand, then two and finally it threw both arms above its head and soared to the ceiling. Pan yelped in surprise and then glared at his shadow,

"Come here you!"

Pan rushed about the room, knocking thing from shelves, crashing into branches, laughing.

Flying.

When first noticing that no part of his body was any longer attached to the ground Pan was trying to keep a hold of his shadow's rapidly stretching wrist, and rather than fall in surprise he laughed with delight. Soaring upwards until he had his shadow in a tight ball in his fist. Sliding the struggling being into his pocket he carried on flying.

He knew just the person to reattach such a thing.

Pan followed a path seemingly held in the memories of his very bones, gliding seamlessly in a direction he had not followed since a different persona had been constructed around the ruins of his soul.

Finally stopping in front of a small London townhouse, Pan alighted on the roof, walking lightly down until he perched just above the top of the window to the nursery.

Cautiously Peter lowered his head so he could peer into the dark room. He felt surprised that there was no longer 3 beds and that many of the childish toys had been replaced with a table and a large mirror.

Clutching his 'kiss' Pan warily stood on the air before the window and despite his ability to walk into a room at once familiar and changed he awkwardly waited.

A figure shifted on the bed and sat up, her eyes widening to stunned alertness as she saw the figure by the window. Peter hurriedly removed John's hat and smoothed his hair.

"Peter?" The voice was soft, unbelieving, terrified. Pan's heart ached.

"Wendy." Pan whispered.

A pale, thin hand threw the window open and slowly Pan entered until he stood opposite the girl he had tried to forget, the girl he had tried to hate and in that moment he realised the girl he probably loved.

She looked questioningly at him, her face a thing of beauty. "Wendy," he repeated and then held a dark struggling ball out to her, "My shadow escaped again."

* * *

A/N: I know, I know. I'm sorry it took me over a month to get this out. But I was on holiday for three weeks and then my mum was ill so...if it makes you feel better I stayed up late last night finishing this. Anyway, only one more chapter to go. (I think!)

Please, you know, REVIEW! (You're running out of time to do so and I have a hit counter now so I KNOW people aren't!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Pan**

**DISCALIMER: **I am not J.M.Barrie, I am not the guy who wrote the movie, and guess what – I'm not Peter Pan either! I would also like to say that I am sorry if I offend any Micronesian people by spelling Wendy with only one 'd' I have been informed that this can be taken as an offensive word.

**SUMMARY:** After she left, Pan hated Wendy Darling most of all. The girl who had enchanted him, who had insulted him: the girl who had killed him. (Metaphorically of course!)

**Chapter 9.**

"**Passion"**

* * *

What does Wendy Darling feel when she sees a shadow at her window once more? Does she despair that it is another dream, one of those awful heart-breaking dreams which fill you with hope to be crushed by reality?

Does Wendy Darling fear that she is perverse to cling to the memory of a boy; a child; a love but not a lover who has probably forgotten, a boy who is likely to be vastly younger than her, who gave up something he wouldn't, couldn't, recognise for his irresponsible youth?

Yet Wendy opens the window, "Peter…" And this time he answers.

"_Am I awake?" _She wonders.

Pan is not what he was, is not just Peter. She sees this as he steps into her room, the nursery for adults who don't want to grow up. The light shines and his darker hair is curly and messy, a top hat jauntily set on his head. In his eyes Wendy sees horrors seen and committed under another's name; but does that make them any less his own crimes? The blood of others, Wendy refrains from calling them innocents, lies heavily on him.

A blood-debt to their love.

Wendy does not doubt that he has suffered, that he understands now what he once refused. Peter Pan is not the self proclaimed perfect, wonderful boy of her youth. He is altogether darker, his soul cries for help and redemption, finally a creature of passion.

How can Wendy, with her taste for the fantastical, a steady aversion to reality and its commonplace occurrences, resist such a contradictory repentant sinner, man child, uneducated genius?

"Peter," she whispers, "I should like to give you my kiss." And it was hers to give, officially imparted to the one who had stolen it years ago. She brushes her pale lips across his darker, more vibrant ones and feels a sense of rightness.

Is Mrs. Darling shocked when she is greeted by the sight of her daughter on the floor with a young man? Is she surprised that Wendy is apparently sewing the man's shadow to his feet and laughs when a tatty top hat falls off his head of curls?

But Wendy was always a girl, a woman, of passion.

Does Mrs. Darling see her baby leaving her? Does she see the kiss, so inconspicuous in the corner of Wendy's mouth, has been given, freely, adoringly, selfishly?

What does she feel when she objects, opens her mouth and speaks out, when Peter rages and Wendy cries?

Pan has to fight for his Wendy, she is his and he will not let go, not for all the _Fathers_ and _Mothers _in the world.

Love is selfish.

What can Pan give her, he gives her his heart. A bag of pirate gold and all the passion he has.

Unconventional.

Mr and Mrs James.

The name shocks Wendy yet he is adamant. He refuses to forget the power of love. The lengths it took him to before he even knew of its existence. Wendy differs to his choice – James Hook is an important part of her too.

Peter and Wendy James.

She is a writer of great repute, a teller of faerie tales, mystical adventures and the lives of the Lost Boys and Peter.

He is an illustrator, an actor, a public speaker of great repute.

Political radicals.

Socialists.

Liberals.

The girl and boy who grew up into something so much more than they dreamed possible.

What of the Indians, the Pirates and the Lost Boys in Neverland?

They live out their scripts, blissfully unaware that they are puppets so often used they no longer need a puppeteer to move their strings. Their story is different to this, equally as tragic, equally as passionate, for what is life but a spiral of fate and the pull of heartstrings?

Happy endings…

It appears so, yet the neighbours mutter that such hotness must cool, that such radicalism must implode, most agree that the Pans are a walking time bomb.

Wendy falls pregnant.

The baby is the child of the forever young, born so old already in its wrinkled skin that it enchants with mesmerising eyes; a new Peter Pan in Neverland before the 'fall.' Precariously walking the balance between precociousness, intelligence, playfulness.

Pan sees himself in the boy, and yet he has the nose and mouth of his mother.

They name him Pan, and this Peter does not mind being replaced.

**

* * *

A/N: _Well, this is almost assuredly (I don't like to make finite promises for this kind of thing – they almost always come back to haunt me!) the final chapter of Pan. _**

**_Pan didn't fulfil any of the expectations I had of it when it started out as a sketchy idea in my head while watching (strangely enough) Starsky & Hutch. I was told by "_Jay FicLover" _that the basic idea of my plot echoes that of the official sequel due out in 2006. I had no idea that this was the case and am thrilled that a similar theme will be explored opening up new trains of thought and possibilities. _**

**_Ironically the whole way through I planned on changing the title and it is only now that I can actually think of one that fits. So I could change the title but now there's really no point, let's just say this is unofficially called Passion._**

_**So anyway enough of this, there won't be a sequel as the fluff of happy ever after appeals to me as a writer as much as diving into shark infested waters appeals to me as a swimmer. **_

_**Please Review though (if only to thank me for finally finishing this A/N) I hope to make 60 reviews. I know reviewers as great as you guys won't let me down !**_

_**Thanks**_

_**Katie**_


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